


can’t take my eyes off you

by LadyMerlin



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Banter, Dom/sub Undertones, Don't copy to another site, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, Love Bites, M/M, Mentions of Clothes Porn, Possessive Behavior, Public Display of Affection, Romance, Snark, Uniform Kink, consensual marking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-01-23 19:57:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18556741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMerlin/pseuds/LadyMerlin
Summary: “It’s snowing,” Ed deadpans. “We’re trapped.”Roy looks past him through the window, to an icy sky, watery winter sunshine, and the lightest sprinkling of snow across the landscape. Ed’s face would’ve been neutral if not for the mischievous grin tugging at the corner of his lips and the sparkle in his eye, brighter than any summer’s day.“You’re just trying to get out of going to Armstrong’s party,” Roy accuses, blandly.





	can’t take my eyes off you

**Author's Note:**

> y'know, idek anymore.
> 
> I was SO CLOSE to naming this “Sweater Weather” but the limits of my own self control continue to astound me.

“Oh no,” Ed intones flatly, “what ever shall we do?”

Roy looks up from pulling on his socks. “What? What happened?” 

Ed turns to look at him and snorts at the sight of Roy’s half-dressed body. He’s still in boxers and his hairy knees are on full display. Socks have to be put on before pants, otherwise the hems will get creased. It's just basic fashion sense. Ed thinks he’s a vain clotheshorse. Clothes-Mustang, _hah_ , like Roy's never heard that one before. 

“It’s snowing,” Ed deadpans. “We’re trapped.”

Roy looks past him through the window, to an icy sky, watery winter sunshine, and the lightest sprinkling of snow across the landscape. In Amestris, this is about as cold as it's likely to get. He looks at Ed’s face, which would’ve been neutral if not for the mischievous grin tugging at the corner of his lips and the sparkle in his eye, brighter than any summer’s day.

“You’re just trying to get out of going to Armstrong’s party,” Roy accuses, blandly. 

Ed widens his eyes dramatically and gasps, covering his mouth as if in shock. “Now I see why they call you a genius!” With feigned innocence on his face, he looks almost shockingly like Al, and Roy can’t help but crack at that, at the sheer playfulness in Ed’s expression. 

“Do they?” He asks, idly. As far as he’s aware, it’s his partner who’s the genius. 

“Not really,” Ed replies, face dropping, eyebrows sinking back into place. “They should, but most people are too stupid to understand what you do.” And honestly, that’s how Roy prefers it, and Ed knows it, which is why he doesn’t intervene when people assume that Roy reached his position through sheer dumb luck, or by spreading his legs. 

“What are you wearing?” Roy asks, pulling on the other sock and getting to his feet. 

“Winter wear,” Ed says, turning back to the window. “It’s practically Drachma out there.” 

Roy moves to stand behind his lover and wraps his arms around Ed’s waist, pulling him close. Ed sighs and melts into him, tilting his head so that Roy can kiss his neck, making him shiver pleasantly. 

“What about that suit that Alphonse had made for you?” He asks, mouthing the words into the soft skin of Ed’s neck, just below his ear. “You know, the one in dark blue.” 

Ed makes a face. “It looks like a military uniform," he says, spitting the words with disdain. "I don’t know why Al got it in that colour, honestly.” 

Truth be told, Roy’s pretty sure Al had it made in that exact shade of blue because it’d make things easier for Ed when he had to attend military functions but didn’t want to wear the uniform. 

“I don’t know either,” Roy lies, because that’s a can of worms he doesn’t want to open, “but it makes your ass look incredible,” and _that’s_ the honest to god truth. The trousers are almost indecently tight, and Roy spends an almost indecent amount of time studying Ed's... curvature. 

“Yeah?” Ed asks, even though Roy’s reasonably sure he’s mentioned this every time Ed wore that suit. “Wanna stay at home and appreciate my ass instead? I think my ass and I could both do with a little appreciation,” he teases, arching into Roy’s hold, slotting their hips together snugly. 

“Counter-offer. You put on that suit, we go to this damn party for an hour, two hours _tops_ , and when we come home, I’ll peel you out of the suit and get you all warmed up.” He tightens his grip on Ed’s hips and rolls his hips slightly, the suggestiveness of the position undeniable. 

Ed clicks his tongue in exasperation, but in the reflection of the window, Roy can see that his pupils are blown. “Who ever heard of a person who wanted their lover to put on more clothes?!” 

Roy spins Ed around so that they’re facing each other and pushes him backwards, up against the window, keeping him pinned with a thigh between Ed’s legs. Ed looks up at him, lips parted, totally unafraid, and not kissing him is _not_ an option. Not when he tastes like toothpaste and coffee and what must’ve been the last of Roy’s favourite dark chocolate.

“You know, I like it when you wear that suit out,” Roy admits when he pulls back, leaving Ed panting slightly. “I like how people look at you, like they want to touch you, like they want to take you home.” Ed’s pupils are dilating even as Roy speaks, and Roy can feel his cock stirring at the sight. “I love it when people try to get close to you, close enough to touch, and you don’t let them.”

It’s not a question; Roy has never had any doubts about Ed’s loyalty. Ed would rather take his own head off than be unfaithful – the idea is abhorrent to both of them. “When you get tipsy and your hair comes lose,” Roy continues, tucking a stray lock behind one ear with gentle fingers, “and you walk around the ballroom like you’re a fallen star, so goddamn bright sometimes I can’t bear to look at you. I still can’t believe that you come to _me_ when you want to go home.”

Ed nods, speechless, arms wrapped around Roy’s back, gazing at Roy like _he’s_ the special one.

“You make me feel like the most powerful man in the world, Edward. You could have anyone you wanted, and you still choose me, every time.” Roy strokes Ed’s cheek, thumbs at his lips until they part, and Roy kisses them one at a time, softly, before kissing Ed’s forehead, a prayer and a blessing all in one.

“No one else I want to go home with,” Ed whispers, a promise which Roy has never doubted.

Roy draws back, taking his thigh away from between Ed’s legs, but Ed doesn’t let him go far, shaky hands on his shoulders.

“I like showing off for you,” Ed whispers, a confession which has never before been uttered. Roy feels like he’s been struck dumb; there are no words left in him. “God, Roy, I can’t get enough of it. Even when you’re talking to other people I can feel your eyes on me, and I never want you to look away. No matter where I am, I know you’re watching me, and sometimes I just want you to touch me in front of everyone, so they know I belong to you. So it’s not just in my head.”

Roy is only a man. He only has so much self-control. He fists a hand in the front of Ed’s shirt and drags him close and kisses him _hard_ , enough that Ed’s lips will be bruised later, that people will probably be able to guess what they’ve been up to. Ed sighs into the kiss and lets Roy make it deeper and wetter and _hotter_.

From there it’s almost instinctive when Roy moves to Ed’s neck, to suck a bruise into his skin, that neither the suit nor his hair will be able to hide. Ed doesn’t protest, just clings and shivers, and Roy is infinitely tempted to just gather him up in his arms and keep him in bed _forever_ , but –

But they both have obligations, duties of friendship and rank. Besides, Roy suspects tonight will be more glorious than usual, especially if Ed ties up his hair to display a ruby-red mark against his dark skin like a piece of jewelry… If he spins around the room like a person-sized hurricane and then turns to look at Roy, as if seeking his approval, or searching out his gaze, or trying to catch his attention… As if Roy's attention is ever  _not_ on Ed...

They’re both hard and trembling when Roy finally pulls away, laving at the bruise with his tongue like an animal, enjoying the taste of copper so close to the surface of Ed's skin; it’s a miracle Ed isn’t bleeding. Ed releases his grip from the front of Roy’s shirt and presses a finger against the spot, hissing at the sting, and then pressing again to make the bruise bloom cherry bright. His pupils are so blown that his eyes look black, and Roy doesn’t think he looks any better.

He steps away because it’d be too easy to forget themselves, if he doesn’t. The suit is easy to find, because it’s one of the few things Ed keeps hung up in their shared wardrobe. Behind him, he can hear the sound of Ed’s clothes being discarded, and he knows that when he turns around, Ed will be naked, utterly shameless, as always.

“No underwear?” he asks when he turns, struggling to keep his voice even.

Ed shrugs, shivering a little, from the cold or from the weight of Roy's regard. “You know they don't fit under these trousers. It'd be a shame to ruin the line, if you like them so much.”

The thought of it is incendiary, of Ed putting himself on display for _Roy_ , and it’s a miracle Roy hasn’t burst into a ball of flame himself, from how much he _wants_.

Ed sits on the edge of the bed and reaches out for the trousers, but Roy doesn’t hand them to him. Instead he sinks to his knees in front of Ed and helps him put them on, one leg at a time, valiantly ignoring Ed’s cock bobbing in front of his face. He does cop a feel when he buttons up the front, but really, he’s only human, and Ed’s a _miracle_. He helps Ed into his crisp white shirt, and does the buttons up, all except the last one, to show a little skin.

He doesn’t even have to ask before Ed pulls his hair up into a high tail, leaving his face – and his neck – exposed. Roy wonders if he should have left a mark on the sharp edge of Ed’s jaw below his ear; whether that would have been more or less telling than worrying a line of bruises all around Ed's throat, like a necklace, or a collar.

“Later,” Ed ventures, when he’s shrugged on his blue coat, “could you leave more marks on me?” he asks, again touching the bruise on his neck. If he keeps touching it, Roy’s going to lose his mind. Not that he isn’t already half-way there, but _still_. Then he processes what Ed’s just asked and he has to struggle to keep his jaw in place, to keep his hands to himself.

Roy’s still in his boxers and socks and Ed’s fully dressed, and he knows how ridiculous a picture this paints but he doesn’t _care_. He steps in close to Ed again, and grins a little wolfishly. He slips a hand under Ed’s jacket and asks, “here?” at a point along Ed’s collarbones. “Here?” he asks again, pressing at a spot over Ed’s heart, dangerously close to a nipple. “Or here?” he asks, lowering his hand to Ed’s navel, at a beautifully sensitive spot below his bellybutton that makes Ed squirm when Roy even touches it.

“ _All_ of them,” Ed whispers shakily, “and on the insides of my thighs too, Roy. _God_ , I want to feel you every time I sit down.”

Roy groans and draws Ed into a hug, stroking up and down Ed’s back, careful to not crease the jacket irreparably. “That can easily be arranged darling, though I don’t know what your brother will have to say about it.”

Ed makes a disgusted sound. “Don’t talk about Al when we’re like this, it’s not decent.”

Roy draws back and affects a sad face. “I’m afraid we’re never decent, my love. We’ll have to apologise to Al, now that we can never talk about him again.” The mood instantly lightens when Ed laughs, pressing his forehead against Roy’s chest.

“You’re such a shit, Mustang,” he whispers, before stepping back and handing Roy his trousers.

“Ah,” Roy says, not disagreeing, “but I’m _your_ shit, aren’t I?”

Ed laughs out loud, throwing his head back in mirth, hair gleaming like a skein of spun gold. “That sounds terrible, Roy.”

“Alas,” Roy feigns sorrow, “’tis my role in life, what is a poor man to do?”

“Oh my god,” Ed says, humour clear in his voice. “I can’t believe how much I love you, you dork.”

Roy drops his teasing air and smiles softly at Ed, the moment glowing and golden in his mind. “I love you too, my darling.”

Ed leans up and kisses him, just a peck followed by a flash of a grin as he steps just out of groping-range. “Let’s get going. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave, and if I’m not mistaken, I’m owed some appreciation.”

Roy can’t stop smiling. He never thought he’d be this lucky. He can’t wait to get home, tonight.

 

**Author's Note:**

> **Outtake**
> 
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> 
> “Oh god, they’re so gross,” Winry says, glaring at the Fuhrer and Ed in turn.
> 
> Al shrugs, but can’t disagree. He supposes they’ve both been through enough that they deserve something good for themselves, but still. He can’t help but wish they weren’t so obvious about it.
> 
> On the other side of the room, Ed casually brushes against the bite-shaped bruise on his neck, and turns to glance at Mustang for a split second before looking away. His attention doesn’t go unnoticed, if the way Mustang turns to watch is anything to go by, and his gaze is so hot that Al’s amazed it hasn’t burned a hole in the ground yet.
> 
> Beside him, Winry pretends to gag.
> 
> Al shakes his head. He supposes he brought this on himself, with that damn suit. The tailor had warned him that the measurements were a bit small, but that had suited Al’s purposes just fine. At least now, Ed can’t say Al’s never done anything nice for him.
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> 
> Send love pls.


End file.
